


In the Blood

by bhuss992



Category: Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Blood and Violence, F/M, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Internal Conflict, Magic, Original Character(s), POV First Person, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:15:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23752948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bhuss992/pseuds/bhuss992
Summary: Deoren Woeborn is a changeling, child of a monstrous Hag, a rarity even among his kind, a male among a race of mostly women. He has chosen to resist the Calling of his evil mother, overcome her, and snatch his life from the jaws of monstrous  Fate.
Kudos: 1





	In the Blood

I am many things. A bastard. An unwanted burden. A thing which should not be. But what I refuse to be , is a victim to what the weak call “destiny.” My father has prepared me for this moment all of my twenty years, since he found me abandoned on his door. Most would have left me to die, a strange, beast-like child with one eye silver, and the other red as the blood spilled by my mother.  
It is said that a thing such as myself, a changeling born male, should be impossible. My life proves those words false. I seek to prove the “fate” of my kind even falser with my actions soon. I grit my fangs, hand gripping the hilt of my blade tight. My lips curl into a savage grin as the pull towards my encounter with mother dearest grows stronger.  
I step through the howling blizzard, the all present snow not impeding my steps, a benefit of being a Winter Hag’s child in the land of Irrisen. I reach a clearing in the thick, dark woods, at midnight. I see nothing but then, it happens.  
I feel the surge of magic, and become paralyzed, as wicked laughter echoes about me. Three Hags walk into the clearing, surrounding me, feral grins, teeth stained with blood. The largest, ranking the fetid stench of death, speaks.  
“So the prodigal son has come! You stink of magic, boy…good! You seemed comfortable with that blade of yours, did you think you’d actually be able to fight us?” What I presume to be my mother throws her head back, laughing. “ You cannot fight what you are , freak. We shall see if we can make anything useful of this… thing. Shall we sisters?”  
The coven throws their hands out towards me, foul magics flowing into my body. I feel their powers seeking to twist me, change me, warp me. My body may not be able to move, but these hags cannot have my mind. I use my own power to fight back, burning power to resist as long as possible. The hags grit their teeth, and my birther growls in what almost sounds like approval.  
“He’s actually resisting us, sisters! This little freak of nature might be useful to us after all. We-” She is interrupted by a shriek from the hag to my left, the sound of something striking flesh, the sizzle and smell of flesh burning. The ritual is disrupted, and I seize the advantage. I grab hold of the energy flowing into me, alter it just a tad, and send all of it flowing into the injured hag.  
There is a sickening feeling, a flash of sickly green light, and the hag is ash. The power blasts outward from her, and the next nearest hag is thrown back, screaming as her skin burns. Another arrow strikes home into her, and a series of bolts of magic energy slam into her from behind. Magic Missile. Seems we have a mage in the mix.  
My “mother” shrieks in rage , charging me, sending a blast of ice magic in my direction.  
“Treachery!” I roll to the side of the blast, and close, throwing out my left hand, calling forth my own spell. A blast of fire slams into the Winter Hag, who screeches in pain as I slash at her with my cold iron blade. She tries to dodge my strike, but the blade slices deep into her thigh. The Hag’s scorched face is desperate and she lunges forward with her claws.  
I’m not fast enough, and they slash deep into my face, and across my chest, though the armor I wear helps mitigate the attack upon my chest. The monster that made me and I circle each other as the sounds of battle ring out around us. A battle cry is screamed behind the Hag, and I look past her to see a half-orc woman charge in, wielding a massive blade. Her target leaps back away from her swing, cackling as she readies a spell.  
Which is exactly when I run her through with my cold iron. I lean in close as she issues her death calls, and whisper in her ear.  
“I bring you a gift, ‘mother’ and with it given, we part for good.” I shove her off my blade, black blood polluting the snow, as I stand panting, steam rising off my body. I look over to where the other hag had been, and see a male human in heavy robes, and a female half Elf in light armor with a bow, ready and pointed at an apparently dead Hag. I hear an exhausted voice from behind me.  
“Damn , did I miss it?! And who’s this?” The ranger walks over, smiling.  
“Shouldn’t be possible, but I think he’s a changeling, am I right?”  
“Aye, I don’t know what made it possible, but you saved me from a fate worse than death, whoever you lot our.”  
“Hey you made our job easier by a lot, taking out one of them when the ritual got interrupted. How’d you do that, anyway?” I shrug.  
“ They were pouring transformation energies into me, trying to change my very nature. That’s a lot of magic, a lot of power, so it had to be split into three sources. When their concentration broke, I was able to pour it all into a single vessel, and added my own power to it, of a destructive nature.”  
The human widened his eyes.  
“ You have a solid grasp of magical theory, young man! I’m impressed. Where did you study?”  
“ I received special permission to train my abilities and study theory in Whitethrone. My power however, is from the blood, not from study.”  
“The capital of Irrisen? Very rare that someone who isn’t a jadwiga to be allowed access to the universities there. And your skill with a blade means you’re an Eldritch Scion, yes? I’ve never met one, before, I’d love to discuss the topic with you sometime.”  
“My foster father sent a letter to the secretary of Queen Anastasia. She was very interested in studying my case, as while she has had access to studying most kinds of magic since her ascension to the throne, the Hags have refused every invitation. A changeling is as close as she could get, and a male one at that?”  
The Human nods.  
“I see, well-”  
the man is interrupted by the exhausted voice, female.  
“This is all fascinating, Cal, but shouldn’t we reach relative safety before we go into the details of our whole lives?”  
“ Right, we need to get moving. There’s a nearby settlement that hired us to take care of the Hags. We’ll see to it you get a share of the bounty. Let’s go. I’m Caldan, by the way, from Absalom.” The half -Elf kept his hands tight on his bow, scanning the horizon as we moved North.  
“Jaden Lavell, out of Ustalav, I’m our resident hunter, of both game and certain kinds of monsters. Hags, undead, that kind of thing” The Half -Orc claps me hard, but friendly-like on the shoulder, smiling warmly.  
“I’m Gora, Belkzen’s where I was born, but I’ve been a traveler since I could heft a blade.” The other member of the group, who I turn to face, is a Dwarf woman.  
“Torae Hammerborn, cleric of Torag, at your service, boy. By the way, I can quick heal that gash to the face.” I shake my head.  
“ Leave it, it’s not threatening my life, or my ability to fight. Besides, it may sound crazy, or stupid, but that Hag was my birth mother, this gives me something to remember where I’ve come from.” Gora throws her head back, howling with laughter.  
“I like this man! He’s got a fighter’s heart, after my own. By the way, you haven’t told us your name?” I look briefly at the sky, which is beginning to shake off some of the darkness of night, not that Irrisen is ever a place of sunny summers, mind you but we do get sunlight up here.  
“Deoren.” The half-Orc smiles at me again.  
“Pleased to meet ya, Deoren. When we get back to town, after we’ve all had time to rest, what say ya to a sparring match? Like ta see how ya handle me in a fight. You did good against them Hags.” I smile for what feels like the first time since I felt The Calling.  
“I’d definitely enjoy that, Gora. The way of the Magi demands both martial and magical excellence, after all. Though, I do promise I won’t use my magic in the match.”  
“Hah! In that case, Deoren, I won’t go into a Rage on you, either.” We spend the next hour or so in idle chatter, well Gora and I do, Turns out, the party are more than just adventurers, they are members of The Pathfinder Society, the most famous organization of adventurers in Golarion. Queen Anastasia had recently allowed them a guild hall in Winterthrone, and this party had come to tap into a land which until the fall of the previous Queen, had seldom welcomed their kind. anyway. As dawn begins to break, the village comes into sight.  
The guard, one of the Ulfen peoples, narrowed his eyes suspiciously as we approached.  
“Oi, there were only for of you when you set out to kill the hags. Where’d this mongrel… thing come from?” Gora growled, stepping forward, but Caldan raised a hand to stop her.  
“This ‘mongrel’ killed two Hags himself, while fighting The Calling. Show him some respect.” The guard stared at me even closer.  
“Thought changelings were only women?” I sigh deeply.  
“I’m a bit of an … anomaly. Look, if you don’t want me in your town, I understand I can wai-” Gora growled again.  
“Bullshit! You shouldn’t be kept out of town like some kind of dangerous animal! You’re a warrior, a man of honor.” She stepped towards the guard. “ He comes with us, understand?” He gulps, and nods with haste.  
“Right, uh, sorry! Come, there’s a Jadwiga emissary from Winterthrone waiting with the mayor for your report. This way.” He calls another guard to take his post, and we are lead to a large house in the middle of the town. The guard knock on the door. “ The Pathfinders are here, milady” I hear a voice which I rather unfortunately know. It’s cold and hard, yet refined, like iron wrapped in silk.  
“Finally! Let them in.” We enter, the Pathfinders in front, me trailing in the back. The mayor is another Ulfen, short and broad, with a heavy beard. The Jadwiga stands in the center of the room, white-blond hair immaculate, haughty expression on her face, which turns sour when she sees me. Her voice takes it’s usual tone of disgust when she sees me.  
“Oh good the Queen’s little pet abomination is here, too. So glad you managed to not get eaten.” I smile sarcastically.  
“It’s good to see you too, Baroness.” She huffed.  
“At least you remember your place, changeling. Now then Pathfinders, did you kill the Hags? And how did this… thing come to join you?” Torae stepped forward, and I felt magic surge around the cleric as she cast a spell I recognized, Word of Truth. The hammer around her neck glowed as she spoke.  
“We came across the three Winter Hags of the coven attempting some sort of ritual upon Deoren, and hit one with a cold iron arrow. Deoren took advantage of the opening, forced a magical backlash on one of the Hags, and he and Gora killed their leader… his mother, while Caldan and Jaden killed the other one..”  
“Hmph, it seems there may be the tiniest bit of merit to you after all, mongrel.”  
“You’re far too kind, Baroness.” A cold laugh, and she turns to the mayor.  
“Pay them the originally agreed upon sum. They want to take in half breeds, let them split the bounty with him if they wish. And mongrel? The queen will wish to hear about your experience, as will some of the scholars. Make your way to Winterthrone.” She pulls out a scroll and closes her eyes, concentrating, and vanishes in a flash of light.  
The mayor approaches with a large bag, jingling in the awkward silence.  
“You payment, milords. You’ll find that the inn will accomdate you free of charge for your service, although…” I roll my eyes.  
“Lemme guess, the inn keep won’t want a changeling in his place?” He coughs sheepishly.  
“That’s about it, yes. Now, the stable-hand-” Gora snarls.  
“Don’t you think he’s earned some respect, you-” I gently put my hand on her shoulder, mindful of my claws.  
“Not his fault the inn keep don’t want me there, Gora. Besides, in this land, I wouldn’t necessarily blame him. Witches have done a lot to these people, let alone Hags. I can’t blame him for being nervous. I won’t let my presence cause trouble for you folk, I’ll take the stables, my good lord mayor.” He nods his head, smiling nervously.  
“Thank you for your understanding. I can have my servant bring a meal and drinks down to you there.”  
“You are gracious, sir.” Gora snorted.  
“You fight like a demon but have the ‘manners’ of an Assimar. I’ll take the stables as well, don’t want to sully the good inn with another half-breed like myself, do I?” Caldan and the others chuckled quietly.  
“Your pride is as always, as great as that sword of yours, Gorra.” The mayor shook his head.  
“The stable’s by the gate, just inside the wall. I assume you have bedrolls?” Gora and I both nod. “ Good, now if you don’t mind I have to inform the town that the Hags are dealt with.” We incline our heads, heading out of the governor’s house. Jaden, Caldan, and Torae handed Gora and I our share of the bounty, forty gold each, took their leave of us, and we headed towards the stables.  
“Thank you for standing up for me. Certainly not something I’m used to.” The half Orc shrugs.  
“I’ve experienced more than enough bull from my tribe over being not just a woman , but a half breed, even if I could fight better than any full blood or man my age. So, I stole the chief’s sword and left. In a way, we both stole our fates, didn’t we?”  
“Hah, I guess you could say we did.” We reached the stables, and she leaned against an empty stall, dim red eyes appraishing me. I did the same, I suppose. Her skin was a blueish mist like color, and the exposed flesh was covered in scars and tattoos. One side of her head was shaven, the other long and braided, with brass rings in the brown hair. She wore battle scarred leathers.  
“You ready for that sparring match?” I chuckle, nodding.  
“ Aye, and after that, mind if I ask you take some of my share of the bounty and get my armor repaired? Should be a tailor in town. I’d do it myself, but I doubt they’d do business with me.” She nods, carefuly setting her blade down against the stall.  
“No problem, Deoren. You sure those claws to the face won’t slow you down?”  
“Hah! I’ve had worse. I need a moment to take off this jherkin, don’t want it slowing me down.”  
“Likewise.” We quickly take off the chest armor we wear, and thankfully, while I’m not wearing a shirt underneath, Gora is, at least, wearing cloth wrappings across her chest.  
“ Before we begin, we should warn the guards, and do this outside, right?”  
“Aye, don’t want to have the guards thinking the ‘dirty half breeds’ are trying to kill each other. Also, I don’t want to ruin what little welcome I have here by ruining the stables.” Gora and I head outside, and explain ourselves to the nearest guard, who directs us to the town’s training area for the guards.  
The half-Orc and I square up inside a worn circle of stones, snow and wind howling around us like a spectral wolf. I see Gora repress a shiver. I resist an urge to smile, as being a Snow-May, born of a wolf-blooded skinchanger and a Winter Hag, the cold has little effect on me.  
Gora takes the initiative, swinging hard and fast at my face. I dodge, and land a kick to her ribs. She grunts with a fierce grin, grabbing my leg with both hands, and throwing me across the ring. I hit the ground rolling, sending puffs of snow into the air. I spring to my feet, and we charge each other.  
I hear guards and townspeople cheering as we exchange blow after blow. Gora’s a good bit stronger than me, but I have grace and speed on her. She hits harder, but I hit her more times than she hits me. I’m very careful to keep my hands balled tightly, keeping my claws in. I overhear snippets of the conversation around me as we spar.  
“Five copper on the changeling!”  
“Six on that half-Orc!”  
“Knock that freak out, half-blood!”  
“Eh he’s a son of Irresen, get that foreigner!”  
It’s becoming clear that Gora has the stamina to outlast me, so I try a gambit. I sweep her legs with a kick, and dive on top of her. I try to keep her pinned. It soon becomes a struggle, as we keep rolling around in the snow, trying to each pin the other. Finally, the fight ends with Gora atop me, holding both of my arms down as we pant with exertion, both battered from the fight, bruises forming all over.  
The townsfolk cheer and grumble, exchanging their wagered silver and copper. Meanwhile, Gora is still on top of me, and both of us are smiling. The heat rising from our bodies is melting the snow under me, and we look each other in the eyes for a brief second before realizing exactly how close physically we are. She coughs and rolls off me, extending a hand to help me up as she rises.  
“Damn, I haven’t had anyone fight me like that bare handed in years. I say, you’re a hell of a fighter, Deoren!”  
“Thanks, you’re damn good yourself, Gora.” We laugh as we head back to the stables. The mayor’s man is waiting for us with a modest meal of dried meats and cheeses, and a tankard of mead for each of us. We pick up the tankards and Gora gestures at me with hers.  
“ I’d like to toast, my new friend.”  
“And to what shall we toast?”  
“Hmm… to half breeds , fighting and friendship?”  
“I’ll drink to that, friend. To half-breeds, fighting, and friendship!”


End file.
